


Did You Ever...

by Am-Chau (Vacillating)



Category: Seinfeld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-25
Updated: 2011-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-23 01:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vacillating/pseuds/Am-Chau





	Did You Ever...

Did You Ever...

a Seinfeld fanfiction by Am-Chau Yarkona [amchau@popullus.net  
](mailto:\(amchau@popullus.net)Rated very adult.  
Jerry Seinfeld belongs to himself, and I imagine that George, Kramer and Elaine

belong to him to, or to the network. Anyway, they're not mine, and I make no

money from them. The waitress is mine, but sadly I don't make any money from her

either.

 

Jerry shook his head. "No. Have you?"

"No," George said. There was a pause.

"Why?" Jerry asked. "I mean, I know Elaine

swears her lesbian friends have more fun than she does, and there's nothing

wrong with that

but I didn't know you swung that way."

"I don't," George said hurriedly, "not that

there's anything wrong with it, of course. I just wondered."

"You just wondered?" Jerry said, eyebrows going

up. He leaned forward in what George recognised with a pang of fear as the _stand-up_

 _comic sitting down_ posture. "How can you just wonder about a thing like

that, George? If I didn't know you so well, I could be insulted by what you

tried to imply about me."

"Well, yeah," George agreed. "But are you

sure you've never?"

"George, I think I'd have noticed if I had."

"The same way I notice when you don't tip me,"

their waitress put in, passing by the table.

"See?" Jerry agreed. "People notice things,

George. Just because you didn't notice when you got up this morning that the

second button on that shirt is much too low, doesn't mean other people don't

notice things."

"Okay, okay," George said, hands up in the _I'm_

 _backing off to firmer ground_ gesture. "Buthave you ever wondered

what it would be like? Have you ever wanted to? With a guy?"

"George," Jerry began firmly, "I have

never"

"Hi, guys," Elaine said, as the diner door banged

shut behind her. "What's the topic _du jour_?"

"Nothing," Jerry and George replied, almost in

unison, waving their hands dismissively.

When Elaine looked at them strangely, Jerry added,

"What's new with you?"

"Nothing much," she said, "except every man

I meet seems to be gay this week."

Jerry looked at George, and George looked at Jerry.

"Huh," Jerry said, "that's strange."

Elaine shrugged. "And also depressingI've met lots

of really good-looking guys, but every time I hit on one, no luck; that's his

boyfriend, right there. I tell you, a girl could start believing that all the

nice guys are either gay or married."

"Aren't we nice guys?" George asked.

"You don't count," Elaine told him.

"Besides, this week, you're probably gay."

"I am not gay!" George protested, loudly.

"Not this week, not last week, not any week."

"Do you want another cup of non-gay coffee?" the

waitress enquired.

"No," George said, though he only had a few dregs

left in the mug. "But you're a very beautiful woman."

"Yeah, right," she said, and headed back to the

kitchen.

"See?" George said, spreading his hands to invite

their judgement. "Not gay. Lusting after women."

"Right," Jerry said, and turned back to Elaine.

"Are you sure you haven't been going into gay bars by mistake?"

"No!" George cried. "You have to believe me.

I'm not gay! I'm really, really not!"

Surprised by the outburst, they stared at him for a moment.

George grabbed his coat, and raced out of the diner,

muttering, "I'll find some new friends, then. Some who don't know me,

they'll believe what I say."

When George was gone, Jerry said to Elaine, "He's not

acting a little oddly, is he?"

"Who, George?" Elaine asked. "No, I think

he's always like that."

"He doesn't usually ask me if I've ever had sex with

another man," Jerry pointed out.

"Oh, is that what it was about?" Elaine said,

sipping her coffee. "You told him, I suppose? Good for you, Jerry."

"Told him what?"

"That you've. oh. You didn't."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Elaine."

Elaine stared across the table at Jerry, as he went on, "Maybe you've been

having strange dreams, or you've been taking too much cold medication, but I've

never slept with a man."

"But Jerry three months ago you and Kramer I

came in" 

"That wasn't what it looked like!" Jerry snapped.

"I told you so, at the time. I thought you believed me! I'm not gay,

Elaine!"

"I didn't say you were," Elaine said, bemused and

trying to calm it down. "I just said"

"I'm not! Really, Elaine. And if you don't believe me,

I don't think we're friends any more." He turned, picking up his coat, and

slid out of the seat. "I'll see you around."

Before Elaine could get a word in edgeways, he was stalking

out of the diner and slamming the door behind him.

Elaine shook her head, and looked up at the waitress.

"He is so deep in denial," she said, apologetically.

"I hope he's enjoying the view of the pyramids,"

the waitress agreed. "You want a refill?"

"Thanks," Elaine said.

* * *

The next day, she returned to the diner as usual,

half-expecting that she'd be drinking coffee alone, but sufficiently in need of

a caffeine hit not to mind.

George was there, alonenot at their usual table but

hidden in a corner.

"Hey, George," she called, and wandered over to

him, tripping on some woman's handbag on the way.

"Watch it, lady," the woman sneered.

"Sorry, I'm sure," Elaine said, with a sinking

feeling that they'd be clashing handbags again soon.

"Hi, Elaine," George said, though he sounded a

little reluctant about it.

"Hi, George. What's going on? Why aren't you over

there?"

"I want to be able to hide under the table if Jerry

comes in," George explained. "God, I was mortified yesterday."

"Yeah, what was all that about?" Elaine asked,

sliding into the seat opposite George and moving the ketchup so that she could

actually see his face.

"Oh, nothing," George muttered, wretchedly.

"It didn't sound like nothing," Elaine said, her

eyebrows arching. "It sounded like Jerry had accused you of being gay. Not

that there's anything wrong with it if you are."

"I'm not!" George shrieked. "Not that

there's anything wrong with it, but I'm not. I just Elaine, can I trust

you?"

"I am a vault," Elaine said. "Locked and

sealed."

"And you won't drink vodka for at least a week?"

"I swear it."

"Okay," George said, and took a furtive sip of

coffee, glancing round to check no waitresses or Newmans or enemies of the

people were nearby. "I you won't tell Jerry this?"

"When do I tell Jerry anything?" Elaine asked.

"All the time," George said.

"Yes, but not the important stuff."

"Okay, I'm trusting you with this." George leaned

forward and beckoned Elaine in as well. "The other night, I had a dream.

About"

"About having sex with another man?" Elaine

guessed, at slightly above a whisper.

George looked panicked. "Keep your voice down! I don't

want all of New York talking about this. No. Well. Yes, but not me. I wasn't one

of them. Two men, not including me."

"So?" Elaine said, relaxing a little. "Weird

stuff happens in dreams."

"Jerry and Kramer?" George asked. "That's a

little above normal weird, don't you think?"

"Err" Elaine said. "Weirder stuff has

happened, actually."

"Like?" George asked, eyes wide.

"Like the time"

"More coffee?" the waitress enquired. It was the

same girl againshe must have been working extra long hours.

"Thanks," Elaine said. George shook his head,

peering morosely into his half-empty mug.

"Anyway," Elaine went on when the waitress had

moved away, "have you spoken to your shrink about this?"

"No!" George said. "I don't want her

thinking I'm insane or something. But go on, tell me what's weirder."

"Weirder," Elaine laughed, "is that it

actually happened."

George's eyes went wide. "I knew it!" He paused.

"Hang onhow do you know that Jerry and Kramer you know?"

"I walked in on them one daythree months or so

ago," Elaine said smugly. "Jerry swears it wasn't what it looked like,

but I know what I saw and I'm pretty certain what that sort of thing looks

like."

"It's recognisable," George agreed. "I've

had reason to regret that in the past."

"When your mother walked in and you were?"

Elaine suggested.

George nodded. "Then, among other times."

"Anyway, Jerry seems to feel the need to lie to us

about it," Elaine said.

"Just like he lied about the nose-scratching

incident," George said solomely. "We ought to put a stop to this,

Elaine. We can't let him keep lying to usit's probably destroying his, err

it can't be good for him." 

"Right," Elaine said. "And we'll do this

how?"

"Err" George said, and took another mouthful

of now lukewarm coffee. "Let me think it through."

* * *

That afternoon, George Costanza was a moderately happy man.

The sun was shining, he had a plan, and a beautiful woman called Nicola had held

the door of Jerry's apartment building open for him. He knocked on Jerry's door,

thinking that it would be good to have the element of surprise.

The tables quickly turned on that one when Kramer's voice

called out, "Who's there?"

 _Oh God,_ George thought, _They've just finished_

 _that, and I'm going to_ He nearly turned and ran, but then remembered that

Elaine would be coming along in twenty minutes or so and expect to see him here.

"It's only me," George called, and tried the

knob. It was open, of course.

"Hi," Kramer said. "Jerry's out, I just

popped in to watch the gameit's nearly over."

"Oh, okay," George said, and sat down on the

couch. "Any idea when Jerry'll be back?"

Kramer shook his head. "Runidiotoh!"

George sighed in sympathy, and noticed that Kramer, as

usual, was sitting a little closer than he felt entirely comfortable with. He

moved away.

Kramer followed him, shifting a little along the couch the

next time he leaned forward in excitement and then sat back as his team made

another stupid mistake. George tried to move away again, but met the arm of the

couch on the other side and was trapped.

He hadn't felt this breathless since his last asthma

attack, aged twelve and a bit.

It probably wasn't that. He stood up, and went to fetch a

glass of water.

The game finished; Kramer gave one last cry of misery, and

switched the television off in a huff.

"What did you want to see Jerry for?" he asked

George, who was still standing at the sink with his back to Kramer.

"Oh, nothing," George shrugged, and then he had a

thought. "Totally unrelated question, Kramer" he began.

"Yes?" Kramer said, skidding across the floor to

stand at the counter.

George didn't say anything, turning to face Kramer slowly.

"What, George? You know I'm always willing to

talk," Kramer said, turning the apples in Jerry's fruit-bowl over carefully

so that only green sides showed.

"Kramer," George said, taking a deep breath,

"have you ever you know with another man?"

Kramer shrugged. "Sure. Why? You curious? It's worth

trying, sometime. Not to everyone's taste, but better than a woman."

George gave up on the asthma and decided to settle for a

heart attack. He waited, patiently. After a minute when he still wasn't in pain

or dying, he said, "You _what?_ You have? When? With who?"

"With whom, George," Kramer corrected, waving an

extremely irritating finger and starting on nestling the two bananas (they were

beginning to go brown; Jerry didn't like bananas much and Kramer hadn't been in

so many days that week) together as neatly as possible.

"Damn grammar, Kramer, answer the question!"

George said, and they both froze, in shock at the loud and imperious tone of his

voice.

"Well, if you feel that way, George," Kramer

said. He stopped playing with the fruit and stepped around into the kitchen

area, almost blocking George's exit. "I've been with" he frowned in

thought, "three men, technically, and I'd be happy to" an eyebrow

wiggle, "make it four."

George stumbled backwards, not as revolted as he'd expected

he might be but still not wanting to give the impression he was interested.

"Um" he said, and then, "err" and

then, much to his surprise, "yeah."

For the first time in some months, Kramer stood absolutely

still.

George didn't breathe.

Kramer exhaled, slowly, staring at George.

George, his breath held, stared back.

"You, err" Kramer managed, finally.

"Um no, of course not, I just, it was a stupid

thought, crazy thought, of course you don't want" George babbled.

"Actually I think it's a good idea," Kramer said,

"if you're willing," and George wandered exactly how it was that a man

who was always falling over seemed to have so much poise.

* * *

Shopping in one hand, mail in the other, Jerry almost

bounced along the corridor, or would have done if he'd been the sort of person

who would ever dream of bouncing. There was, at the very least, a little bit of

a spring in his step, as of a man who hadin one day, in one mere hour

evennot only found a great bargain, on something he'd actually be planning to

buy, but also received a very flattering letter from the owner of a downtown

club andto cap it all offmanaged the perfect, witty, sharp, brilliantly

timed insult he'd been meaning to deliver to Newman ever since he'd first met

the man.

The fact that he'd delivered it to Newman's inoffensive

identical twin brother who had friends in the Mafia was not about to remove the

spring from the step of Jerry Seinfeld.

He was seriously weighing up the pleasures of whistling as

opposed to the displeasure it would certainly cause his neighbours, and coming

down on the side of whistling despite, or even because of, the probability of

the latter, when he found himself at his own apartment already.

Finding the door unlocked, he threw it open with a bold

gesture, not unlike that with which a playful elephant will hurl its keeper

across the compound, accidentally and in fun breaking the man's neck. Luckily,

the door had been getting used to Kramer for years and had already had a neck

brace fitted.

Then he stopped. He dropped, in a manner most wild and

uncontrolled, his shopping from one hand and his mail from the other. The

regular way in which gravity conveyed them to the floor was not a source of

comfort to him.

The sight which had caused this consternation was as

follows: George's penis.

George's _erect_ penis.

Attached, as is the way of things, to the rest of

George'sextremely nakedbody. A body which was lying, still naked, next to

Kramer's body. Kramer's naked and recently satisfied body.

Kramer's naked and recently satisfied body whose hand was

wrapped around George's erect penis, as they laynakedon Jerry's nice blue

couch.

Correction: the blue couch which Jerry had previously

thought was nice.

"George!" Jerry yelled, a little taken aback by

this sudden development. He slammed the door shut, an action he would cite in

later years as evidence of his great presence of mind in extremis.

George opened his eyes, saw Jerry, and came.

Kramer smiled. "That's right, George," he said,

happily. "Now, doesn't that feel good?"

Words deserted Jerry. He uttered a primal scream, as never

heard in New York since Godzilla left, and turned his back on the sight.

Only to discover that he could now see George's underwear,

lying on the floor under his coat.

"Good God," he said, and collapsed onto the

floor.

* * *

"I miss all the exciting stuff," Elaine sighed,

staring into her half-empty mug of cooling coffee. "You really walked in on

them?"

Jerry nodded. "George. And Kramer. Naked and doing

that."

"Wow," Elaine said. Her eyes were wide.

"Just promise me you won't mention this to them,"

Jerry went on. "It was bad enough seeing Kramer naked, but Kramer and

George knowing that I'd not only seen them but told you about it that

wouldn't be good."

"Okay," Elaine agreed. "Thoughif you

walked in on them, how can they not know that you saw them?"

"I lied," Jerry explained. "When they were

dressed, I told them I hadnt seen anything. It seemed easiest to pretend that

I hadn't."

"George said you fainted," Elaine said, casually.

Jerry washed out the inside of his nose with lukewarm

coffee.

Elaine passed him a napkin, and then repeated her remark.

"I didn't faint!" Jerry said, indignantly.

"I remember it all. I wish I didn't."

"That I can understand," Elaine said. "After

all, I wish I hadnt seen you and Kramer doing the exact same thing."

"But you didn't have to see **George** naked as

well," he stuttered after a moment. "Though I have to say, in all

honesty, he's better looking than Kramer is"

Elaine smiled sweetly, and stood up before launching her

parting shot.

"Well, isn't there an interesting judgement from a man

who didn't want to have seen anythingthough I have always agreed with that

reporter, you two'd make a cute couple."

Jerry stared after her as she left the diner.

She couldnt possibly mean she didn't mean George

hadn't George didn't did he?

 


End file.
